


Blood in the Cut

by DustinMcDreamy



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Organized Crime, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustinMcDreamy/pseuds/DustinMcDreamy
Summary: 1920's Noir Gotham: A serial killer committing heinous murders is loose in Gotham City. The Gotham City Police Department has no idea who it may be, but the killer is leaving messages to get the attention of rising crime lord Roman Sionis, who is very intrigued by his new ally.A serious drama with crack elements starring cameos of your favorite DC characters with twists, turns, and hidden agendas.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written noir so it may-or-not come across well, but do me a favor and try to picture that setting in your mind if you could. XD. 
> 
> Blood in the Cut (Seattle Sessions) by K. Flay  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JdhCkoI4HM

It was a rainy day in the crime-ridden city of Gotham. The city had the worst of the worst villains and crime lords all combined in just a handful of zip codes. The boys in blue were underpaid and overworked because they couldn’t keep up with supply and demand. The good ones didn’t last because they’d poke their noses where they never belonged, and the rest were all under another gangster’s payroll, weakening any internal efforts to clean up the city.

One of Gotham’s top crime lords was Roman Sionis. He was a rich man who only wanted his parent’s love. They were more preoccupied with their status than with caring for Roman. Roman didn’t play that game. Roman did what he wanted and took what he wanted. The world was his oyster. When mom and pop found out that Roman wanted other gentlemen, they tried to disown him and kick him out. They didn’t live much longer after that mistake.

Roman inherited the millions they had left behind, and he started his own business by investing. The market was unreliable, so he picked up a side hustle; arms dealing and bootlegging. The city was thirsty and unarmed, and Roman Sionis had the solution. 

He owned a popular jazz club in the classiest part of the city where all of the classiest citizens liked to prowl. It was called The Black Mask, and anyone who was up to no good came there to have a good time.

Roman Sionis was sitting in his reserved lounge chair, smoking a cigar and sipping a martini while he listened to the jazz stylings of his favorite singer, Dinah Lance.

Dinah was so much more than his singer, she was his right hand woman. Roman liked things that were useful to him or pretty, and Black Canary was both. She had a way to charm his enemies, and then they never expected to have their asses handed to them by a killer dame.

He also had his favorite Heiress, Helena Bertinelli. Helena’s entire family had been killed by a gang that rivaled Roman’s. He sold her an impressive arsenal of weapons that she used to exact revenge on all of them, and she had been working for Roman ever since. 

He blew the smoke out of his lungs as Helena made her approach to Roman’s balcony. “Boss, there’s a copper here to see you downstairs. She wants to ask you some questions. I would have sent her away but she said it involved Selina Kyle. I thought it might pique your interest given what she’s done to the family.”

Roman chuckled as he extinguished his cigar on the ornate ebony ashtray that rested on the glass table next to him. “I would _love_ to discuss Selina Kyle. Thank you, Helena.”

Roman picked up his martini and took a sip as he made his way down the stairs to the main floor of the club. He turned to the entrance where a short detective was standing. Her hand was on her hip and she looked like the stubborn type. This was no rookie. If she got this far, she was either corrupt or a force not to be trifled with. 

“Good Evening, Officer,” Roman greeted.

“Detective. Montoya,” she said. “What are you drinking?” she asked, referencing the illegal drink in his hand.

“Water. With a spritz of lime,” Roman said with a cheerful smile. What can I do for you?”

“An acquaintance of yours was found dead. It was hard to identify the body given that she no longer had a face,” she explained.

Roman grimaced. “Ewwwww,” he said disgusted. “I’d hate to be the carpet cleaner.”

“Rumor has it that she stole something from you a while back. Nothing of value was found in the apartment. I was wondering if you can confirm if the rumors are true,” Montoya asked.

Roman chuckled. How smart of a detective could she be if she was asking Roman to incriminate himself. “I don’t get stolen from, Miss Montoya. I’m a nice guy, well liked by many.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “If only that were true. Roman, I know your M.O. I know this wasn’t anyone on your payroll, but there’s been a lot of bodies like this. You know a lot about this town, and Selina was in your circle. She was a thief, and a good one. She’s made a lot of enemies very rich, more than likely your enemies. If they snuffed her and took her shares, that’s a lot of financial power going to someone who isn’t you. So if you have a lead for me, I can help you out, remove some of that competition of yours.”

Roman smiled at her charisma. “You, Detective Montoya, are a delight. I love the way you think. However, I don’t have competition. There is _nobody_ like Roman Sionis. I don’t know who your killer is but I’ll keep my ears open for you. If I hear any birdies sing, aside from the one I’ve got on stage, I’ll send you a telegram. Please do continue keeping the streets of Gotham safe for people like me. There’s so much crime it’s-” he took a quick dramatic gasp, “-positively frightening!” 

Montoya smiled insincerely, knowing Roman wasn’t an innocent man at all. “You do that. A serial killer _has_ to be bad for business, especially when he’s peeling off faces of associates of yours. I wouldn’t want to be seen in your business circles with that psycho on the loose. You know where to find me if you hear anything.”

She made her way out of the club and Roman took another sip of his martini as he contemplated her words. She had a point, but most importantly, the bitch who stole from him was dead.

“Oh Dinaaaaaaaahhhhh,” he musically rang. She stopped in the middle of her song. “Come here, birdie birdie!” She gracefully stepped her way off the stage and sauntered over to her boss. “I’m giving your vocals a rest this evening. I have a different job I need you to do tonight.”

“So I got all dolled up for nothin?” she asked.

“What you’ve got on is perfect. I don’t anticipate there being trouble with this one, but if you do, you’ve got that lovely singing voice of yours,” he complimented. Dinah laughed mischievously and Roman took a pen and one of his business cards out of his pocket. It was a pure white card with a black, oblong, vertical hexagon on the left with a mischievous white smile and “The Black Mask” written in fancy cursive font with the address of the club typed neatly below.

On the blank side, he wrote down an address. “4321 suite something Metropolis Avenue. A private investigator friend of mine, Clark Kent. When people hire him to investigate crimes against me we do a little red herring, and lock someone else away. Get him, and go to Selina Kyle’s apartment. He can do some investigating, you can get me my diamonds and my family heirloom, and get right back here. He truly has an _eye_ for detail. He sees things nobody else does.”

“He sounds super,” she mocked.

“He is,” Roman said as he handed her the card. “Now skedaddle.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she headed out of the club. “Helena! Tell the band they’re playing with no vocals tonight. I’m going to put on my outfit for the night.”

He made his way back up to his balcony and through the access hallway that connected his private penthouse to his club. He opened the door and locked it behind him and entered his living room. He felt a breeze in his suite and he looked curiously at the open window that he definitely left closed. 

He took the gun out of his pocket and held it as he cautiously made his way to the window and closed it. He did a quick sweep of his penthouse, finding nobody. He’d go through his inventory in more detail later on.

He entered his bedroom and saw an envelope on his bed. He approached and saw that the letter was addressed “To: Roman Sionis”, and the envelope had dried blood staining the envelope. 

Roman slipped on his black gloves before picking up the envelope and opening it. He removed the letter inside and carefully unfolded it.

_“Looks like this kitty was on its ninth life. There may be more than one way to skin a cat, but one was all I needed. You’re Welcome.”_

There was nothing else included in the envelope and there was no name. Favors didn’t usually come without additional strings attached. He hoped Selina and Clark would find out some quality information. Roman would like to know who his mysterious new ally was.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinah arrived at the address Roman provided her. She was lucky the main floor had a directory. Kent P.I. was on the third floor. She made her way up the rickety stairs until she reached the third floor and approached the door that said “Kent Investigations”. 

She knocked on the door, holding her wet umbrella when the door opened. A tall man, six and a half feet at least, stacked with muscles that wanted to break through his tight-fitting shirt opened the door.

“Good Evening, Miss,” the man greeted. “You looking for Kent Investigations?”

“If I wasn’t before, I am now,” she said with a charming smile. “May I come in?”

“Absolutely,” he said, stepping back and gesturing for her to enter. She waltzed in and took a look around the room. It was a standard looking office with a few bookshelves, a corkboard with a lot of articles and photos pinned to it, and the main desk with two visitor’s chairs. “You look like you just came from a jazz club.”

“I did,” she said, reaching into her bosom and taking out the business card with her index and middle finger, extending her arm to Clark. He took the card and looked at the logo.

“Oh shit,” he said. “If I had known Roman sent ya, I’d have left you outside.”

“And I’m sure Mr. Sionis would have found a way to make you suffer if his shining star got pneumonia from the cold rain and couldn’t sing,” Dinah replied.

“The last arrangement for Roman nearly cost me my life. I don’t know if his money is worth the risk,” Clark replied.

“Oh it is, Mr. Charming. And if not the money, perhaps the allure of a cold case?” she asked enticingly.

“What’s the case?” he asked.

“A little kitty cat burglar put her little paws where they didn’t belong and let’s just say that she got declawed,” Dinah said with a smirk. “You got anything to drink here?”

“Alcohol is illegal,” Clark said flatly and Dinah gave him a confused expression.

“Did Roman send me the right guy?” Dinah asked herself.

“We all have lines we don’t cross. Extortion, bribery, murder, I am okay with. But I don’t play with that devil water,” Clark replied.

Dinah huffed. “Whatever suits you, boy scout. You ready to head out? If you charge by the hour, I don’t believe the boss wants to pay you overtime.”

“Yeah, we can head out,” Clark said as he grabbed his belongings: coat, camera, pen, notepad, and umbrella. “Ladies first,” he said as he held the door open for Dinah.

“I never caught your name,” he said as he locked the door behind them.

“No, you didn’t,” she said with a cheeky grin.

They made their way to Selina’s apartment in the downtown slums of Gotham. “I hate being back here,” Dinah lamented. “Mr. Roman got me out of these neighborhoods. The shows I used to perform in weren’t as pretty.”

“I grew up on a farm. I wanted to see the big city,” Clark replied.

“You should've chosen a nicer city,” Dinah replied. 

“No kidding. But Gotham is like tar. Once you step your foot in it-”

“-You’re stuck,” the both of them said in unison. 

They made their way up the stairs and were on her floor. There was detective tape blocking the door which Dinah removed with the tip of her umbrella. Clark slipped on a glove and twisted the door handle until a loud snap was heard.

Dinah chuckled as Clark pushed the door open. “We could use some muscle on our team. And I’m sure Roman would appreciate the view. I know I do.”

“Roman’s offered, both aspects. He’s not my type and I want as minimal contact with him as possible. Associating with him will get me dead someday,” Clark replied.

They quickly glanced around the apartment. It wasn’t very high end at all, and it was very run down. “There’s no way Selina lived here. With all the jewels and diamonds she stole, she lived somewhere much nicer. This must just be a safehouse or hiding spot.”

Clark chuckled. “Well it wasn’t very safe for her now was it?” 

“Boss says you can see things others can’t,” Dinah replied. “What does he mean by that?”

He took his glasses off and his eyes glowed red. He slowly rotated his body to look in every degree. “What is it you’re looking for?” 

Dinah took a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Clark. “Some diamonds and that family heirloom. It was the only thing he took from his family’s mansion before it happened to catch on fire.”

“None of that is here. She obviously would not have kept anything valuable here. A break in is bound to happen at any time. Hell, look at us,” he said. “But I think I can tell a few things from our killer. His only weapon is a knife. There’s been no projectiles or arrows. He got to her quickly, there were very few signs of struggle. If we had access to the body, I’d bet he threw the knife, incapacitating her,” Clark stated.

“Would the knife toss have killed her or the face peeling?” Dinah asked. Clark looked up and saw some pulley rigs.

“Bleed out,” he grimaced. “He wanted her to be tortured, suffer. Did the police say how they found her?”

Dinah shook her head. “They only mentioned a missing face, no details reported to the public yet.”

“I bet they found her hanging by her feet upside down,” he said.

“Someone’s got some time on his hands,” Dinah replied. “And you’re sure Roman’s shit isn’t here?”

“I’m positive,” he said. 

“I don’t trust you,” she said as he looked around herself. Clark chuckled as he took out his notepad and looked around himself, taking notes on the scene. After half an hour, Dinah conceded defeat. 

“Believe me now?” he asked.

“If I told Roman I just took your word and didn’t look myself, I’d be like Miss Whiskers, here,” she said.

“Probably,” Clark said with a smile. “You ready to head back to Roman’s? I’ll walk with you. The Gotham streets at night are no place for a lady.”

“I’ll accept your offer, but for the record, I could take care of myself,” she replied.

The two of them made their way to The Black Mask. The night was now thriving and the club was full. They made their way up the stairs on the side that lead to Roman’s private aerial balcony with the view of the main stage.

“Dinah, Clark, come in, come in,” Roman encouraged. “Have a seat. What did you find out for me?”

“Not a whole lot,” Clark replied. “Selina is smart enough to not keep anything valuable in Gotham’s slums. I reckon it’s just a fast hideaway. The man is not a meta, but he’s very capable and dangerous. Selina had no time to react and no defense. He strikes quickly and accurately, and then tortured her before peeling her face off.”

“Let’s stay on his good side. So, my inheritance?” Roman asked. Dinah shook her head. “How disappointing.”

“If there’s nothing else you need from me, Roman, I’d like to be on my way,” Clark said. He stood up and Roman got up to follow him.

“Thank you for the help, Clark?” Let me give you a proper tip,” he replied in a sultry tone as he copped a feel on the man’s muscular butt.

Clark quickly grabbed his hand and turned it slightly, causing Roman to wince. “You can pay me my usual rate, Roman. Plus a hundred for that stunt and the generous gift of you keeping your wrist.” He let go and Roman chuckled. 

“Mr. Kent, you’re no fun, but I do like it a little rough,” he replied playfully. “I’ll have your check tomorrow. If not, you know where to find me.”

Clark left and made his way out of the club. Roman moved over to the balcony ledge to stretch and enjoy the view of the band. As he watched over the club, he couldn’t help but feel the club was watching him back. He tried to skim through the crowd, but the moving lights and moving bodies did not make it very easy. 

He looked down, having the feeling someone was looking up at him but all he saw was the bend of the back of someone’s leg as they walked out of the club from the main entryway below him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Roman’s eyes opened in the middle of the night. He was in the middle of a dream, so his REM cycle was not complete. He just felt an overwhelming sense of dread in his sleep that forced him to wake up.

His eyes were heavy and groggy, and as his eyes were adjusting to the dark, he swore he saw a figure in the living room from his bed. He quickly reached over for his gun and the lamp. When the light illuminated his penthouse loft and he was ready to pull the trigger, there was nobody in sight. 

He did another check through his penthouse as he had done earlier that day. There were no intruders and no bloody letters waiting for him. He crawled back into his bed with an uneasy feeling, but he was too exhausted to force himself to stay awake.

The sunlight illuminated his loft, awakening him again, but at a more reasonable hour this time around. He slid out of bed and stepped into the living room where his eyes landed upon a present, a present that was definitely not there in the middle of the night.

There were smears of blood on the wrapping paper, just like the envelope. Roman headed to his room in search of gloves before he touched the mess. He came back with gloves secured on his hands and began to unwrap the present. 

He removed the paper and slowly lifted the lid. Inside was a watch that was covered in dried blood. He examined it closely, but didn’t recognize it at all. He gently set it on a napkin and looked inside again and saw another envelope. He removed it next and pulled the letter out of the flap.

_“You can sleep more soundly knowing there’s one less person who hurt you. You can sleep soundly knowing I am watching over you. You’re Welcome. P.S. He was ungrateful.”_

So there _was_ someone in his loft last night. He would be getting security bolts and security, stat. But who owned this watch, and who was he referring to?

There was a knock on his front door and Roman made his way to it, not caring he was only in his silk pajama bottoms. It could only be Dinah or Helena

His suspicion was correct when it was Helena at the door. She paid no mind to his state of undress. “What’s going on?”

“Short Detective is here again,” Helena said. “She wouldn’t give me a name this time, but a second visit in twelve hours ain’t a good look, boss.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “Have you heard from Dinah within the past hour?”

“No I haven’t,” she replied.

“Find a phone and ring her til she answers. Make sure she’s ok. Head straight to where she is. You two don’t leave each other’s sides. Capice?” Roman asked.

“Understood,” Helena said as she left. Roman quickly put on acceptable clothing and then made his way back downstairs to where Detective Montoya was.

“Montoya,” Roman said. “I do have a three-day policy. No back to backsies.”

“I came here to warn you,” she said. “Stop digging into this killa.”

“If you didn’t want me to look into him why did you bring him up to me? You asked me to help ya,” Roman said.

“Well your help got Clark Kent murdered,” she replied.

Roman’s heart jumped in his chest. They weren’t terribly close, but he was a good acquaintance to have. “What makes you think I know Clark?”

“The fact that he died with your business card on him and that he was seen in your booth last night, you buffoon! What did Clark Kent find out?” she asked.

“Nothing! Just that there was no sign of struggle, so he attacked fast and gave her a lil’ torture,” Roman said.

“A little torture? Selina and Clark were both hung upside down and had their faces removed from their bodies until they bled out,” she replied. “He must’ve found something substantial if the killer knew he was onto him!”

That’s where she was wrong, assuming he could believe the notes. Selina stole from him, and he was under the impression Clark had hurt him. _His wrist_. Clark had grabbed his wrist and twisted it. He felt like he was being watched, and he was correct. The guy was in the club last night and had seen the whole thing and was in his penthouse _twice_ last night, _thrice_ altogether..

“If Clark knew more, he withheld it from me,” Roman replied truthfully. By being honest, he figured it allotted him enough to withhold the rest. The last thing he needed was to be watched by the feds for safekeeping, it’d scare off all the clientele. Miss Montoya’s visits likely already were.

Montoya looked frustrated and bit her lip with a scowl. “Stay low for now in case you’re on his radar. I swear to god if I find out you’re behind this and not a potential victim, I will bury you in a hole in the ground, capiche?”

Roman chuckled. “Exactly where I’d deserve to be if I was peeling faces off. Take care, Montoya.”

She left his club and Roman stressed slightly, but he only seemed to be going after Roman’s enemies, but given the overreaction to Clark, who knows what this man perceived as a threat? 

He was not going to let this killer ruin his life though. He had things to do, plans to execute, and schemes to arrange. 

He phoned the club’s contractor and requested him to install security deadbolts on every window in his loft. “I’ve had break-ins, so this needs to happen before tonight. I’ll tip you generously for the rush order,” he said before hanging up the phone. 

He had an important lunch with an old lover of his, strictly business, however. Their parents were ‘close’. Roman’s parents hated them, but they stayed in tight circles due to status. He was sure the Waynes hated his parents too, Roman sure did. Bruce and Roman were left to their own devices, the whole ‘children should be seen and not heard’ shindig. When they got older and their bodies matured and produced enough hormones, they were curious and experimented here and there. Roman liked what he discovered, and Bruce stated it wasn’t for him anymore and moved on to different holes.

Bruce inherited the Wayne fortune, and continued to develop and expand the Wayne clean energy power plants and manufacturing factories. Many of Roman’s arms weapons were discretely manufactured in Wayne factories. Continuing to pursue cleaner energy sources was risky and extremely experimental; and maintaining Thomas and Martha’s generous charities was costly as well. The extra income from Roman allowed Bruce to do it all, but the irony was not lost on either of them that for every person saved through a Wayne family charity, another was likely being lost with a weapon made by Roman Sionis.

Roman arrived at the Country Club and was escorted to their lunch table by one of the formally dressed waiters. Bruce Wayne was reading the paper when he must have noticed Roman in the distance because he began to fold it and put it away at the perfect time.

“Roman,” he greeted cheerfully (well, as cheerfully as Bruce could manage. He was a very monotone and expressionless man). “It’s good to see you, old sport.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” Roman replied with a smile. “It’s unlike you to be social.”

“I do my best at the suggestion of multiple therapists. They all agree that if I had isolated myself and become anti-social right after the loss of my parents, I would have become an unhinged loner with terrible and bizarre coping mechanisms,” Bruce replied. “I think they’re overreacting. How bad could I have turned out?”

“A question for a different universe,” Roman replied. “What were you reading about?”

“The article on Clark Kent’s murder,” Bruce replied. “He was a good friend of mine.”

“What kind of good friend? A good friend like I used to be?” Roman asked with a suggestive glance.

Bruce’s mouth faintly moved into about ten percent of an amused smile. “He had mentioned you harassed him a lot. No. not that way.”

“Harassed is a very strong word, I feel,” Roman replied. “If the church can recruit and convert, why can’t I?”

Bruce looked unamused, which was his usual expression, but especially now. “Anyways, my good friend was brutally murdered, and I was reading to get some understanding, make sense of how or why.”

Roman didn’t feel guilt often, but he did for this. He had put Clark in the crosshairs of the killer. He looked at his friend, clearly troubled. Roman would have to agree with Bruce’s therapists. The man was one bad tragedy away from doing who knows what. This would have to be a secret Roman would need to keep for himself.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Bruce,” Roman said, reaching across the table to place his hand on his friend’s. “He was an investigator, it was in his blood. He wanted to make the streets of Gotham safer.”

“He was very square,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “But dangerous when he wanted. I liked that in him.”

“Sounds like you had the same fascination I did, Mr. Wayne. Would you have reopened that door for Mr. Kent?” Roman teased.

“The man was built like a Greek god. The thought had crossed my mind, especially when we fought, which was often. We had very conflicting ideas on almost every subject. The passion that was involved with that fighting, it was easy to imagine it being applied elsewhere, but I digress. This is not how I wanted to memorialize Clark,” Bruce explained.

“And what about Selina? You were with her, were you not?” Roman asked.

Bruce sighed. “My relationship with her was troubled. I wanted to change her, she wanted to steal. She stole my heart, but also a lot of my money and heirlooms.”

Roman laughed heartily before he took a sip of the wine in front of him. “Love is too dangerous. Love makes you obsessed, makes you do crazy things,” Roman lectured.

“But it makes you feel powerful. When you find that one person you would do _anything_ for, it makes you feel like you _can_ do anything,” Bruce replied.

“I already _can_ do anything,” Roman stated definitively as he took another sip. Bruce just chuckled. 

“You should find someone, Roman,” Bruce stated.

“Are you offering, Bruce?” Roman asked.

“I’ll see how the next decade goes,” he teased. “If nothing better comes around.”

“There’s nobody better than me, Brucey,” Roman replied.

“I’m sure you think that,” he replied. “Excuse me for a moment while I go to the gentleman’s room.”

Bruce stood up and made his way through the club and Roman reached over the table to grab Bruce’s newspaper. He wanted to skim the article when a waiter came by in his peripheral vision.

“Another wine for you, sir,” the waiter stated, setting it down next to his original, which was almost empty.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Roman replied, not looking at the waiter, too invested into the article he was reading.

“I hope you and your partner are enjoying your stay,” the waiter replied. The comment of partnership humored Roman and he turned to the man. He was attractive and had shocking snow white hair, but raven facial hair. There was something about his face, it looked too smooth and uniformly colored, as if he was wearing makeup.

“He’s not my partner anymore, but with another drink or two maybe I can wear him down,” Roman joked. The man let out a small chuckle and smiled. His grin was as dazzling white as his hair and utterly charming.

“Well, you make a very handsome coupling as you are a very handsome man,” the waiter flirted with a suggestive smile. “If you need anything further from me, let me know.”

Roman watched with desire as the waiter walked away, looking over his shoulder once more at Roman while he was off in the distance. It was rare to find a man who enjoyed the company of other men, and this one had been so brazen about it. Roman liked it, and he wished he had more time to get the information from the man.

Bruce returned and sat at the table again. “You stole my paper,” Bruce commented.

“That I did,” Roman replied as Bruce snatched it back up.

“That serial killer is intriguing. He could be walking amongst us at any moment, and we would be none the wiser,” Bruce replied. 

Roman arrived back at his loft that evening and inspected all of the windows. His handyman had done a stellar and speedy job with the security attachments. He closed all the curtains as well before he crawled into his bed and nestled under the covers knowing comfortably that nobody was getting into his suite or watching him sleep tonight. 

Bruce Wayne was not as comfortable, however. He writhed as wriggled as his assailant pulled on the ropes of a the pulley system he manufactured in Bruce Wayne’s own home after rendering Bruce unconscious.

“Why me? You don’t have to do this,” Bruce grunted as his hands tried to break free of their bounds behind him.

The man laughed low and heartily before turning to Bruce with a sadistic smile. “I know I don’t _have_ to do this,” he replied. “I am doing this because I _want_ to. You had something I want.”

“Had?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” the man replied softly. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t have it again.” He put the blade against Bruce’s face and gave it a slow pull. Bruce’s screams echoed throughout the emptiness of Wayne Manor as Roman slept soundly on the other side of Gotham.


	4. Chapter 4

Roman Sionis woke up the next morning at his usual time. His penthouse was much darker with the curtains being closed, only small streams of light piercing through the darkness from the sides of the fabric.

He opened up each curtain one by one, more light coming in as the fabric was shifted out of the way.

He stopped when he was in front of the window that he believed the serial killer had been using to get in and out every night. If he couldn’t get in, maybe something was left behind. He calmed his nerves, took a deep breath, and slid open the curtains, bracing himself for whatever he may have been about to see.

There was nothing on the other side aside from a clear view of the Gotham skies and other high rises. He got dressed in one of his favorite white suits with a silk black tie and stepped out of the penthouse, the front door directly connecting to a hallway that led to his private booth in the Black Mask, which felt like a living room to him.

In his booth was Detective Montoya, waiting for him. Roman sighed and rubbed his temples. “I am not excited about these daily meetings, Montoya.”

“I’m not either, Sionis,” she replied. “Have a seat.”

Roman did as instructed and looked at her. “Please tell me it wasn’t Dinah or Helena. They should be here by now.”

“It’s not them,” she replied. “It was a friend of yours, Bruce Wayne.” It was a blow to Roman’s chest and he winced. His fists gripped with anger. Clark was a close acquaintance but Bruce was a _friend_. “We heard you had brunch with him yesterday at Gotham’s Country Club. Was anything discussed?”

“No,” Roman said softly. “It was just catching up. He’s always had mental health issues after his parent’s murder and he relies on friends a lot to keep him happy. We were just having a good time.”

“Was he involved in anything dangerous that the killer would have been threatened about?” Montoya asked.

Bruce’s most dangerous business aspect was Roman. Bruce was legitimate in everything else. “No, no, Bruce wasn’t like that.”

“The killer has killed two of your friends and only one enemy, Roman. That’s not a pretty ratio. What are _you_ involved with?” Montoya asked.

It made no sense to Roman either. He thought of the notes the killer left behind. Selina was a favor, the killer made that clear. He _thought_ Clark had hurt him, but Bruce did absolutely nothing to Roman. 

“What _exactly_ was your relationship with Mr. Wayne, Sionis?” Montoya continued to question.

“We were friends, we were-” _Former lovers,_ Roman thought. But the only people that knew that were him and Bruce. _And the waiter._

_“Love makes you obsessed, makes you do crazy things. But it makes you feel powerful. When you find that one person you would do anything for, it makes you feel like you can do anything.”_

In the letter he received after Clark died, the killer said Clark was ungrateful. It didn’t make sense to Roman, but he remembered-he grabbed Clark’s ass and made a pass, which Clark didn’t appreciate.

He had slipped that he and Clark had a romantic history. That white-haired waiter immediately was flirting with him, which was not normal. It was risky to be brazenly queer in public, but the waiter ahd already assumed the two of them were a couple, and Roman said they used to be. If this waiter was a stalker in love, they were bound to be a jealous type. There’s nobody else it could be.

He looked at Renee, who was staring at him intently. “You know, I think I do recall something Bruce mentioned,” Roman stated. “There was talk about a potential lawsuit. Clean energy wasn’t clean for someone or something, someone may have gotten hurt. It was small talk, I didn’t take notes. But I think he said he wanted Clark to look into the claim, get some info on the family. He was a little worried, but felt confident with his legal team and resources so I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Did he mention a name?” Montoya asked. 

Roman shook his head. “It was just small insignificant corporate chatter,” he replied. “Bruce didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“And how would Selina be involved?” Montoya asked.

“I know if I needed an item from someone’s house, I’d call Selina. They maybe needed something from somewhere,” Roman lied.

Montoya grinned. “Well, this is a better start than what I had. If you recall anything else, let me know. Do you think you’re in danger? I can have you be watched.”

“No, no, no,” Roman said. “That will not be necessary. I’m not involved in the case, but I do have my own bodyguards. I am just entangled with Gotham’s elite and wealthy, which is often corrupt.”

“Yeah, I’m tired of you rich assholes,” she replied. “I appreciate the help you’ve provided. I’ll see if it checks out. We’re going to nail this guy to the corkboard in my office and throw him behind bars.” She stood up from the couch and made her way to the stairs that descended to the main club floor.

“I hope you sweep him up off the streets soon, Detective. Thank you for your time,” he stated as Montoya escorted herself out. The false lead he provided should keep her busy. He had to find this white-haired killer first, and he had a good idea as to how to do it.

He made his way back inside his penthouse and made his way over to his telephone. He swirled the spinning dial of the rotary phone until the phone rang for his recipient. 

“This is Detective Richard Grayson with Gotham PD, how may I help you?” the man on the other line answered.

“Hiya, Dick! It’s your old pal, Roman Sionis,” Roman greeted. Dick Grayson was one of the many police officers on Roman’s payroll that were compensated an extra salary to make evidence not found, corrupted, disappear, or provide too many abd leads until a case is unsolvable before they even begin to point to Roman.

“Direct contact, huh? This can’t be good,” he replied.

“I need a big favor. I’m catching a stalker and I need you to pretend to be my date this evening. He’s a really jealous type. I need to trap this little honey bee with some sugar, and nothin’ agitates his stinger more than another Queen Bee in my hive,” Roman explained.

“So you want to play fast and loose with my life, huh?” Grayson asked.

“Fast and loose is a good Friday night, Mr. Grayson,” Roman replied with a smirk. “You’re a capable man, keep ya gun on ya, and once I catch him I’ll tell him I was blowing smoke and you’re not a threat.”

“Fine,” Richard replied with a sigh. “What's the time and place?”

That evening, Richard came by the Black Mask and picked Roman up for their mock date. Roman was sure he’d get the white-haired man’s attention.

Roman came down and greeted Dick Grayson who was dressed in a sharp blue and black suit.

“Mr. Grayson,” Roman greeted. “You look superbly dashing this evening.” 

“As do you, Roman,” he replied as Roman got closer. Once they were face to face, Grayson leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Roman instructed that if Grayson was the forward one, it may draw his attention more. He had no idea where his stalker could be lurking though, but it appeared he always had eyes anywhere. 

On cue, Dinah walked into the club, dressed to perform this evening. She let out a surprised smile, admiring Roman and Grayson’s outfits. “Oh my oh my,” she swooned. “Such dashing gentlemen you are. Mr. Grayson, you’re such a lucky man to have Mr. Sionis on your arm tonight.”

“I certainly feel like a lucky man,” he replied.

“Where are you two going this evening?” she asked as the three of them made their way outside to the car.

“We’re going to the Olive or Twist on Boardwalk Street,” Roman said clearly with a smile to Dinah.

“The Olive or Twist? Oh gosh, I heard that place is so fancy and romantic. Oh have a good time,” she said as she opened the door for the both of them.

“Thank you, Miss Lance. Have a good performance. Make them see stars,” he stated.

“You too,” she said with a playful wink and made her way back into the club. She looked around for a man with white hair, but the colors of the lights in the club made it disorienting. She had done her part and she made her way to Helena’s booth.

“Boss going on a date?” Helena asked awkwardly. Her acting skills were not as good as her bodyguard skills, that was for certain.

“Yeah, to that Olive or Twist restaurant ,” Dinah replied. She really hoped the killer caught the message and that her boss knew what he was getting into.

Roman and Grayson had a fake romantic dinner in the Olive or Twist. It was on the top floor of one of Gotham’s tallest buildings and the outside walls were made of windows. Dick had a view of the city and Roman had his view of the restaurant, keeping an eye out for his former waiter.

They had a candle in front of them and the restaurant smelled like perfume and cigars. Dick was laughing at a joke Roman had told and Roman was doing his best to look like he was in love.

Roman reached his hand across the table to hold Grayson’s. “I’m having a fantastic evening, Mr. Grayson,” he commented.

“So, would you say this evening is going _successfully_?” he hinted.

Roman quickly glanced around the restaurant. The dim chandeliers didn’t make it very easy. “The night is still so young, Mr. Grayson. It’s still too early to te-”

Off in the distance was a man dining alone, a stare fixated on Roman. His face was barely illuminated in the candlelight, but Roman was positive this was his guy. The man wasn’t looking away, and Roman smirked as he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. He held it up clearly for the man to see and set it on the table before turning to Richard again.

“We got him,” Roman said. 

“What’s in the letter?” he asked.

“A letter stating when and where to meet me and that you are a decoy, a platonic employee of mine, and if anything happens to you, I’ll be very cross with him. I get the feeling he kind of wants my approval. I have a copy for you to keep on your person. Should I be mistaken about that man or if he doesn’t get this one, tell him you have a letter for him from me and to read it first. But I don’t think we’ll get to that point,” Roman explained.

“We had better not,” Dick replied. “Let’s go.”

They stood up and made their way to the door. Roman glanced one more time at the table where the fanatic was, and he was gone from sight. He could only hope that the killer got his message, and he would leave Dick Grayson alone.

He waited in his loft, eyeing the time. The letter stated to come at midnight, hopefully that didn’t give him enough time to chase down Grayson. He was pouring himself a drink of whisky when he heard the window open and felt the cool breeze of the night sweep in the room. Gotham’s clock tower chimed to announce the time.

Roman turned to see the white-haired man smiling proudly in his living room. “I’m glad you reached out. It’s nice to be invited for once. Those locks were rather cruel,” the man said mischievously.

“I trust that my employee is still on my payroll, and he will answer this phone call?” Roman asked as he made a step to the phone and began to dial it. 

The man smiled, not confirming or denying. “Roman?”

“You may rest at ease. The man is here with me. He shouldn’t give you any trouble,” Roman instructed.

“Thank you, boss,” he said as the call hung up.

“I am here to follow your orders,” the man said with a smile.

“I had to be sure. Your success rate doesn’t impress me. Clark was an ally of mine,” Roman said.

“Oops,” the main replied dismissively.

“And Bruce Wayne was a very good friend,” Roman added.

The man sucked in a lot of air through his teeth, making a sizzling sound with the air. “I’m a _little_ sorry about that one. I can get a little jealous, honey.” He smirked flirtatiously but Roman remained neutral.

“I needed him,” Roman replied.

“You don’t need him anymore though,” Zsasz replied. “You have me now, and I’m all the man you need.”

“I don’t even know what to call you,” Roman replied.

“You can call me ‘baby’,” he replied with his lips pursed, as if to put on a cute theatrical facade. 

“I don’t think we’re on that level yet,” Roman replied. “Name.”

The man chuckled. “I’m Victor Zsasz. You can call me Victor, or Zsasz. I’m _versatile_ that way.” The innuendo was not lost on Roman.

“When did I pique your interest, Mr. Zsasz?” Roman asked. 

“Everyone knows you’re the best crime king in Gotham,” Victor replied. “Well, the smart ones do. You do a good job of hiding it. I’m got really turned on at your big _fuck you_ to your family.”

“Ah,” Roman replied. “That’s very hush hush.”

“My lips are closed,” he said, pursing his lips to display their shutness. Roman stepped closer to evaluate the man. His face, neck, and arms were covered in scars and cuts.

“I knew you were wearing makeup in the restaurant,” Roman stated. “Are they everywhere?” Roman glanced over Zsasz’s torso. The man was incredibly attractive, and the scars made him even more so.

“You can see the rest if you play your cards right, Mister,” Zsasz replied flirtatiously. “I wanted to make a good first impression you see, but every mark is a tally. Every time I liberate a life from their body, I add another. Your pals Clark and Bruce are on me too, and of course that Selina bitch.”

“Remarkable,” Roman replied. “The dedication to your art, it’s beautiful, inspiring!”

A proud smile crept along Zsasz’s face. “Thank you, boss.”

“Oh, I’m not your boss yet,” Roman replied as he walked away from Zsasz towards a living chair. “I may not be anyone’s boss anymore. Your little jealous stunt on Wayne jeopardized my weapons manufacturing gig. I’m going to run out of inventory.”

Zsasz made his way over to the chair and got on his knees in front of Roman. He placed his hands on Roman’s thighs and looked up at him pleadingly. “I’m sorry, Roman. I had no idea. There must be something we can do. Can you buy Wayne Enterprises?”

“I don’t know what’s happening with his company, and even if I did, that’s a hefty sum of money. I’m rich, but not buy out Wayne Enterprises rich,” Roman replied. Zsasz looked incredibly upset with failing Roman. All he wanted was to impress Roman and make him fall in love, but he had hurt Roman’s empire more than helped. An idea popped in his head and he looked towards Zsasz with a devilish grin. “Do you know who _is_ rich enough to purchase Wayne Enterprises?”

“Who, boss?” Zsasz asked eagerly as he stood up, allowing Roman to enthusiastically rise from the chair..

“Oswald Cobblepot!” Roman replied eagerly.

“That little penguin in that ice box he calls the Iceberg Lounge?” Zsasz asked.

“Yes!” Roman replied. “He’s my biggest competition in the arms business. We’ve been at a standoff because he had some leverage on Bruce Wayne and I’ve been too _nice_ due to our history, but now that Wayne is gone, we’re free to attack!” He spun and looked at Zsasz admiringly. “Maybe you killing off Brucey was a _good_ thing.”

Roman placed his hand on Zsasz’s shoulder appreciatively Zsasz looked pleased and redeemed at that statement and gesture. “All I do, I do for you, boss.”

“Go home, get some sleep, and be back here at nine in the morning so we can plan a course of action with the girls to take down Cobblepot,” Roman ordered.

“Seems like it would be more convenient if I stayed the night,” Zsasz replied suggestively, wrapping his arms around Roman.

Roman grinned at the attractive man’s forwardness. He took his hand and cupped his stalker’s face, stroking his soft, dark beard. “Let’s see how well you do tomorrow. Earn my appreciation.”

Zsasz turned his head intimately to relish in the touch of Roman. His eyes were closed to focus on only his own bliss before he opened them to stare into Roman’s with dedication. “I won’t disappoint you, Boss,” 

“I hope you don’t. I’d like to see where this partnership goes,” Roman replied. He spun Zsasz around towards the window and slapped his ass to gesture him on the way out. Zsasz turned to give him an enticed grin before stepping out on the fire escape balcony.

“Sleep tight, boss,” Zsasz said, looking admiringly at Roman as his boss made his way to the window. He closed it behind him and sealed the security lock with a teasing wink and closed the curtain, hiding Zsasz from view. He could see his shadow make his way down the steps and ladder.

Zsasz was an intriguing man, and Roman would be lying if he wasn’t excited and curious about the prospect of a talented killer on his team, especially one that was highly attractive and very forwardly into him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dinah and Helena entered The Black Mask and made their way up the staircase to Roman’s booth and foyer of his penthouse access. As soon as Helena saw a white scalp she positioned herself in front of Dinah protectively and pointed the crossbow right at Victor.

Victor just smiled warmly at the ladies. “Good Morning!” he greeted with an overly friendly greeting as he sipped his coffee. “If I knew what you girls liked to drink, I’d have gotten you some.”

“Who are you and what do you want with the boss?” Helena asked intimidatingly.

“I’m Victor Zsasz, he told me to be here, and there’s a _lot_ I want to do with him, but that’s sort of between us. No girls allowed,” he said with a wink. 

The door opened and Roman walked out in a powder blue suit and smiled upon seeing his employees. “Ah! Ladies, I see you’ve met Mr. Zsasz! You may know him from the face peeling murders. Zsasz, these ladies are Helena and Dinah! But I get the feeling you knew that already.”

“I did,” he said proudly. “It’s nice to meet you ladies. You’re prettier in person, especially when you’re not blocking the view.”

Roman laughed as he had a seat. “Zsaz, you’re such a flatterer. Come on girls, sit, sit!”

“I’m just a little confused as to how we went from ‘Helena, protect Dinah from the face-peeler’ to ‘Helena and Dinah, have a seat with the face-peeler’,” she said as she sat, eyeing Zsasz uncomfortably.

“His little love letters were a little cryptic, but you girls weren’t in his sights. Right, Victor?” Roman asked.

“No of course, the broads were fine. I mean, I did have one potential plan if this little song and dance didn’t progress where maybe I’d hold one of yous hostage and Roman would come in and I’d reveal myself for the first time, but it was only on the back burner. I just couldn’t help myself and be patient so I revealed myself instead,” Zsasz explained proudly.

“See? What a sweet little meet-cute, just like those nickelodeons,” Roman replied. “Zsaszy here wants to be on the _winning_ team.” Zsasz nodded as he sipped more of his to-go coffee.

“So what is this plan? Bruce Wayne’s murder may have affected our business, _Zsaszy_ ,” Helena replied pointedly.

“Yes, yes, that’s all been discussed. Victor’s apologized, and we have a back-up Plan. I can buy out Wayne Enterprises when Bruce’s shares go into auction, we just need a little more dough. So, drumroll please, we are going to lay waste to Oswald Cobblepot, steal his guns, kill his men, and steal _everything_ from that little penguin. We’ll have the monopoly on arms dealing in Gotham _and_ we’ll be a step owner to either owning Wayne Enterprises, or we’ll have the resources to start our own manufacturing!”

“You’re going to lend us some men, right?” Dinah asked.

“Of course, of course!” Roman replied. “I’d never let anything happen to my girls or my new friend Mr. Zsasz. Hobblewop has that place covered in goons. But we’re going to light ‘em up, take ‘em down, and make this town _ours_.”

“Do we trust the leper over here?” Dinah asked.

Zsasz chuckled. “These are scars, self-inflicted. The people I want dead _are_ dead. One hundred and seventeen people freed from this mortal plane by my hands, sweetheart. What’s your body count?”

“A lady never tells,” she says with a smirk.

“A man hates a girl who’s lost count,” he teased back.

“That’s enough, everyone,” Roman stated, opening his arms dramatically in a ceasing motion. “We need a plan as to how we’re going to get my armed men in that guarded club.”

The sun went down and the nightlife began at The Iceberg Lounge. The crisp, cool air was filled with jazz and cigarette smoke. Zsasz walked in with Dinah on one arm and Helena on the other.

“Do we all have our wrist watches?” Helena asked with a smile. Zsasz and Dinah nodded, confirming Helena’s wrist devices were tucked nicely under their sleeves.

“The concoction won’t kill them at first. It’ll make them feel queasy. They’ll rush to the closest bathroom, lock themselves in a stall, and pass away hugging their porcelain master,” she advised. “Once we see enough leave the floor, it’s Dinah’s turn to shine.”

They nodded and spread out through the club to look for the body guards. Dinah made her way up a staircase to the overhead view of the club. She saw one of Cobblepot’s goons keeping an eye on the club. 

She put on her best grin and began to walk a little heavier. The guard heard her and looked over at her. 

“Ma’am, you can’t be up here,” the goon stated.

Dinah giggled and swayed her body a little. “I did all of those stairs by myself! Can you believe that?”

“Come on, ma’am, you need to go back to the man floor,” the guard said as he approached to usher her.

“This is _such_ a nice club! I’m Veronica, nice to meetcha!” she said as she held out her arm for a handshake.

“Frankie,” the guard said, shaking her hand. With a jerk of her wrist, a small needle was dispatched from her device into the man’s wrist. “Now I need you to go downstairs, that’s where the party is.”

Dinah let out an excited gasp and a bewildered look of amusement. “There’s a party downstairs!? I love parties!”

The guard escorted her around and she pretended to ease her way down the stairs, her expression changing back to its stoic state as soon as it was out of view. Helena made her way to her guard and asked where the powder room was located. After he pointed her in the right direction, she pretended that there was something on the back of his suit and pretended to rub it off, but injected the man with the discrete poison and made her way out.

Zsasz made his way through a service hallway, keeping an eye out for guards. He approached one who stood defensively and halted him.

“Are yoos supposta be back here?” the man asked.

“Hi, I’m Alonzo,” Zsasz greeted, extending his hand. “I was trying to find my way backstage. I’m a new hire to help with the curtain ropes and cleaning and general backstage assistance.”

“You ain’t dressed for no stagehand,” he replied.

“I was _strongly_ advised to always look presentable just in case I came across Mr. Cobblepot or other guests,” Zsasz replied, his hand still out. That seemed to be acceptable because the guard shook it.

“Through this hallway and to the left,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Zsasz replied with his charming smile before making his way through. He shook hands with more guards until he was backstage. The woman on stage finished her song and the audience clapped. The few guards on the floor quickly began to scurry in search of a bathroom. Dinah slipped on a gaudy masquerade mask with showtime feathers and made her way through the crowd and up on stage. The singer looked confused but Dinah gestured her over and leaned in her ear. 

“Mr. Cobblepot says take thirty, try some tea with honey, rest that strained voice of yours,” she said. The singer looked surprised and offended but flashed a faux grateful smile and made her way to the back. Dinah turned her way to the bank. “Give me something upbeat and jazzy, boys. Let’s get everybody dancing.”

The band started up with an energizing roar and Dinah began to shimmy and dance her way to the mic.

“Oh I know you see her standing there, oh that woman must have it all/ the only thing she don’t got is you and you’re determined to make her fall/ oh be careful boy, love’s just not her game/ once you get close your temperature will drop and you’ll never ever be the same.” 

The trumpet roared enthusiastically to escort Dinah into her verse. “That woman is an iceberg, oh she’s cold to the touch/ if there’s something that you’re trying to get from her I assure you won’t get much/ her heart is made of ice and you should call her Killer Frost/ if you wanna make love let me warn you now, you’re better off getting lost.”

The people were dancing and swaying happily to the uplifting jazz and Dinah raised an octave to get more powerful. “I said that woman’s an iceberg, you’ll never get her to thaw/ she’s a tall glass of water and she knows you’re staring in awe/ but don’t try to approach her, you’ll freeze!/Oh she likes to do what she please! That woman’s an iceberg! Wo-ah! That woman’s an iceberg! There’s no need to pooooooooooooooooooooooooout! You just need to get-”

Dinah roared “OUT” powerfully at the crowd with her vocal powers, the bursts of waves knocking through the tables, throwing them into the air. Glasses shattered as the people scattered and tried to recover their balance as they rushed through the door. Helena was taking cover behind a marble pillar, but it started to shake and rumble.

Dinah dropped the note and the rest of the people rushed out. Dinah quickly made her way to Zsasz. Zsasz was pulling two knives from the bottoms of his pant legs and he chuckled gleefully.

“Why, Dinah, you really sure know how to knock a house down!” Victor said. 

As soon as the last of the club-goers ran out, Roman’s gang walked in with their own weaponry. One of them handed Helena her crossbow. “Thank you, boys! Let’s melt this popsicle stand!”

Zsasz and Dinah rushed off of the stage through the main parlor to head up the stairs with the rest. One of the men handed Dinah a gun and tried to offer Zsasz one.

“I’m a bit of a hands-on guy,” Zsasz replied, wiggling his knife. As soon as one of Penguin’s goons made their appearance, Roman’s gang members were decorating them with lead.

One pointed a gun at Helena but Helena had faster reflexes and shot a bolt right through his neck, he fired his gun upon dropping but it didn’t hit Helena. Roman’s gang had the latest Tommy guns, and so far the goons Penguin was unleashing only had pistols. That could change at a moment’s notice, however.

Three men came to converge on Dinah. Who didn’t have her backup. She let out a scream that knocked them back. Some fired bullets, but her waves slowed them down until they were suspended in the air and were then thrust back away from her. Every hallway converged on Cobblepot’s main office, and they braced themselves for what was beyond. 

Dinah let out one more yell that burst the door open. Both sides began to fire, but her screaming waves shielded them. Cobblepot’s men fell one by one by Roman’s bullets and Cobblepot cowered with fear. Zsasz made his way over to the man cowering behind the large desk. He jumped on top and looked over the edge at the crime lord and flashed an evil, sadistic grin. “My new boyfriend says he’ll love me if I kill ya, so that’s what I’m gonna do!”

Oswald screamed a blood curdling scream as Zsasz’s knife was plunged into his face. He hopped down on Oswald’s ribs to pin him down with his weight as he carved through his face until the screaming gave out.

“Get the duffle bags! Grab everything you can quickly before the coppers come!” Dinah announced.

There were multiple safes and many men, including Helena brought out picks. Helena had elaborate repurposed crossbow bolts for her lockpicking. The safes got opened and the poured all the contents into duffle bags.

“I’m counting these bags, boys, and we know who has what. Don’t be trying to jip Mr. Sionis! He pays you well and he treats you right, and your shares will be more than adequate, don’t you worry! This is getting invested into our empire so we can continue to rule Gotham as a team!” Dinah exclaimed.

A very bloodied Zsasz approached Dinah with a smile. “I _love_ your leadership. I know I feel motivated.”

“Let’s get to the cars, pronto,” she relayed with a sense of urgency.

Back at The Black Mask Club, Roman cheered enthusiastically like a giddy child on Christmas when he saw all the duffle bags being brought in. 

“Oh my gosh!” he exclaimed. “You girls are amazing, Victor, you’re amazing!” He clapped rapidly to himself and spun around in a circle dramatically. “Wayne Enterprises is ours, Cobblepot’s territory is ours!”

He reached into a duffle and took out a wad of cash and deeply inhaled it. He chuckled to himself low and hungrily. “Isn’t money the best aphrodisiac?” He turned to Victor with a very pleased smile. “You! You are going up to my room, taking a shower, and getting all of Cobblepot off of you because I am going to thank you properly by getting all of _me_ on you.”

Victor grinned mischievously, having succeeded in his conquest. “I accept your thanks, boss.”

“Everyone usher up some of these bags!” Roman cheered as they each grabbed some, along with some henchmen and carried them up to Roman’s penthouse while Gotham PD investigated Cobblepot’s.

“Looks like whoever was behind this raid is going to be one lucky crime lord,” Dick Grayson stated. “Who do you think it was?”

Montoya looked over Cobblepot’s disfigured body and chuckled. “Roman Sionis was behind this. Face-Off has been wanting to get Roman’s attention, and Roman got it. If you believe the rumors, Cobblepot was Roman’s biggest competition. Roman never struck because Oswald had blackmail on Bruce and Oswald didn’t have a meta-human bodyguard to initiate a strike. Face-Off gets Bruce out of the way, and Cobblepot is targeted.”

“That’s all pretty circumstantial,” Dick replied. “We can’t target Roman with any of this. Especially we don’t know this alleged blackmail Cobblepot had on Bruce Wayne.”

Montoya turned around and examined the entirety of the scene. “Bruce Wayne wanted a child, but never found a wife or even a girlfriend willing to put up with his issues. He didn’t want to be the only orphan who brutally lost his parents in an incident. So her murdered the deaths of a mommy and a daddy and their little son would be eligible to be adopted. And they could build a new family born in the darkness of their own tragedies. Sound familiar, Mr. Grayson?”

She heard a gun cock behind her and she chuckled. “No need to overreact, Dick. I’m on your side. Face-Off killed your adoptive father to seduce Roman. Would you rather be friends with Roman, or be friends with me?” 

She turned back around and looked at Grayson, pointing a gun at her face. “How did you possibly know all of that?”

“I have a really bad doctor,” she said. “Doctor-Patient confidentiality ain’t her thing. We can take down Roman together.”

“What do you have against him?” he asked.

Montoya grinned. “It’ll be revealed in time. Do you know what Selina Kylke stole from Roman?”

“I don’t know. Jewels?” Richard asked, setting his gun down.

Montoya shook her head. “There was a little more. A family heirloom.”

“An heirloom that’s not a jewel?” he asked.

“Correct!” she said cheerfully. “And you know who she sold it to?”

Grayson looked around the room. “Cobblepot?” Montoya nodded. “It definitely ain’t here anymore.”

“Cobblepot wouldn’t leave this heirloom lying around,” Montoya said. “It was more valuable than the contents of all these safes combined.” She made her way to the side of Cobblepot’s desk and began to push it. It turned and the center design on the white marble floor began to open and reveal a hidden sunken area which had one more safe.

Montoya put on gloves and fished around through Cobblepot's pockets for a key and she made her way to the safe. She gently slid the key into the keyhole and turned, her face grinning with excited anticipation as soon as the unlocking sound resonated through the air.

She slowly opened the door, worried the heirloom would not be on the other side. Her breath hitched as she choked out giddy laughter and tears upon laying witness to the contents of the safe.

“Roman Sionis, you are so screwed,” she said as her laughter reverberated through the emptiness of Oswald Cobblepot, Roman Sionis’s final victim.


	6. Chapter 6

Roman woke up the next morning in his bed with Victor Zsasz’s face next to his and his arm over Roman’s chest. He turned to Victor, who was still sleeping soundly. He looked so happy and peaceful in his sleep. He was beautiful with the light shining on him and through his ruffled white hair, like his own little personal angel of death.

“I thought stalkers were supposed to watch me sleep,” Roman teased, moving slightly to gently stir Victor awake.

Victor groaned as his body was disturbed and escorted off of Roman and to the mattress. “I did that last night, therefore I was up later, therefore I must sleep in later.”

Roman chuckled at his new lover. “Was last night everything you had hoped it to be?”

Zsasz chuckled and a grin emerged on his face, his eyes still closed. “It was perfect. That’s why I’m still trying to regain my energy.”

“I’m a morning person,” Roman said. “Hope that doesn’t affect our relationship.”

“I go where you go, boss,” Zsasz mumbled. “If you want me up, I’m up. Just give me five more minutes.”

The day was spent at Bruce Wayne’s estate auction. Wayne Manor and certain belongings were revealed in secret and given to their recipients, but many objects were up for sale, including the 51% of Wayne’s shares in his company.

There was not an entrepreneur in the crowd that had the wealth Roman did now that he had taken Cobblepot’s assets. The empire of Roman Sionis was sure to be unstoppable.

Roman invited Zsasz, Dinah, and Helena to a small gathering at The Black Mask. He had set a table right in front of the main stage and set it with his most luxurious tablecloth and china. He brought the expensive wine and champagne, and had the most delectable prime rib catered.

The rest of the booths in the club were decorated with garland that had white roses and there were candles on every table. 

“Well, boss, thank you so much for this,” Dinah stated as she walked in, eyeing the view. 

“We didn’t need an entire dinner, boss,” Helena replied.

“You know me, I live for a lavish party,” Roman replied extravagantly as he skipped over to the table and pulled out a chair for Victor. “Mr. Zsasz,” he welcomed.

“What a thoughtful gentleman,” Zsasz said with a charmed smile, staring right into Roman’s eyes as he took his seat. Roman took the cloth dining napkin and sat it on Zsasz’s lap, using their close proximity while he was leaning down to kiss Zsasz.

“Let’s not spoil the dinner,” Dinah stated.

Roman removed his lips from Zsasz’s with a smile. “Don’t be jealous now, Dinah.” He made his way over another table he had set to the side that had the food trays and an ice bucket with the bottle of champagne. He took it out of the ice and turned back to his table.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Roman stated. “May the people of Gotham grovel at our feet and may anyone who challenge our empire die slow and gruesome deaths. Here’s to a decade of prosperity for the four of us in this room!”

He popped the cork of the bottle, and as the pop exploded and the bottle gushed, the front doors of the club were violently thrusted open, with a swarm of thugs in red and blue clown makeup stormed in with wooden bats and hammers. Roman jumped out of the way as Dinah flipped the table up for cover. Helena reached over for her crossbow she had set aside, Zsasz took out the knives in his pockets, and Roman reached for a gun.

“Dinah, take these fools out,” Roman ordered. A goon launched one of the hammers through the air prior to Dinah standing up for cover behind the table. She didn’t have time to inhale to unleash her screech when the giant wooden hammer collided into her chest and knocked her down.

“Dinah!” Roman exclaimed. Dinah was coughing and wheezing from the heavy blow to her lungs. Feminine laughter flowed through the room and looked to see a woman with long blonde hair, nerdy glasses, and a white doctor’s coat waltz in.

“What does the Harlequin Gang want with Roman Sionis?” Roman asked angrily.

The blonde doctor smiled in a way that would have seemed genuine and friendly had it not been accompanied by a gang that just assaulted one of his favorite bodyguards. “My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I am a psychiatrist that specializes in childhood and adolescent traumas. One of my favorite patients has a long list of grievances with you so I had a thought; If I were to get rid of you, it may bring her the closure she needs to move forward. Revenge _always_ brings us the catharsis we’re looking for.”

“You should get sued for malpractice,” Roman grunted. 

“I do a lot,” she giggled. “That’s why I gotta run a lil gang for some side dough. But let’s cut the chatta. Get ‘em boys!

The Harlequin gang charged at the four of them. Roman shot bullets as fast as he could, but he only had his pistol on him. Zsasz leapt over the table and landed on a thug, pile driving his knives into his skull. 

Helena stayed behind the table for cover and was shooting bolts at the gang. Dinah stood up with the hammer that had been launched at her. The goons that Roman and Helena couldn’t get long-distance were smashed by Dinah.

Zsasz was bravely distracting the goons in the middle of the club floor. The traffic bunched up and they didn’t have much room to swing. Zsasz was fast and nimble, zigzagging through the henchmen and making rapid and fatal cuts to legs, causing them to fall and disorient which gave him the opportunity to go for the throats. 

A goon made his way to Dinah and grabbed her by the collar and pulled her over the table.

“Dinah!” Roman exclaimed as he tried to shoot, his gun failing as it was out of ammo. The thug brought his hammer down on Dinah’s chest again, the disturbing noise of bones cracking echoed. Roman usually loved that noise, but he wasn’t happy to have it happen to her.

Zsasz tacked the thug that got Dinah and began to slice him up in anger. Helena felt around for more crossbow ammo, but she was out as well. Roman grabbed a knife as a feeble attempt to protect but a gang member swung at him, knocking him to the floor. They grabbed Helena and she tried to squirm and fight back, but they had fatally struck her down as well. Zsasz took care of the last two men that just killed Helena, and it was just the two of them and Dr. Quinzel in the club full of bloodied bodies.

Dr. Quinzel tried to run out the club but Zsasz threw a knife through the air and it sharply landed in the back of her head, causing her to collapse. He dashed over to ensure the job was done while Roman rushed over to Dinah and Helena, hoping they were still alive.

Tears came to his eyes as he realized that they were dead because he had left his guard down from being too happy at his success.

Zsasz slowly made his way to Roman and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I failed you, boss. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect them. This is my fault, not yours.”

Roman let out a heartbreaking gasp, he hated the sound of Victor blaming himself. “No, no, please don’t accept the blame for me,” he pleaded. “I was a fool to think I had won.”

“That you were,” said a familiar voice from the other entrance of the club. Roman and Victor turned to see Detective Montoya walking into their club. Montoya was wearing a navy blue suit, black shirt, and white tie instead of her usual uniform. She had black gloves over her hands, just like Roman.

“I believe that look is better on me,” Roman replied.He glanced over at Grayson, hoping he was still loyal to him and had a plan for knocking her out.

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Montoya said with a smile. She glanced over at Victor and chuckled. “I take it you’re the face peeler.”

Zsasz gave the detective a charming smile. “You a fan of my work?”

“I am,” she replied. “My partner, Detective Grayson? Not so much.”

“You should have told me the stalker you were trying to trap was the face peeler,” Grayson said as he made his way to Montoya’s side. “I never would have helped.”

“Who’d he kill?” Roman asked, intrigued at Grayson’s involvement.

“My father, Bruce Wayne,” Grayson said.

Roman had a surprised expression on his face. “Bruce was your father? How did I not know about this?”

“The only person who knew was Oswald Cobblepot,” Grayson replied.

“ _You’re_ the blackmail Cobblepot had on Wayne? I never would have guessed that one,” Roman replied. “But that was recent. Renee seems like she has a longer grievance with me, I just don’t know what that is. Are you Dr. Psycho’s patient?”

“I’m not a patient of Dr. Psycho, but Dr. Quinzel says he’s worked with him. She says he’s short. But yes, I have a score to settle with you, Roman, the man who has it all. My mother was a maid. She worked day and night scrubbing toilets and floors made of glossy porcelain for rich people while she was overworked and barely had any scraps. She worked for Janus Sionis, and after she had spent a twelve or fourteen hour day slaving away in his mansion, he demanded that she service him. Once she got pregnant, he got rid of her, with not even the slightest amount of money to help support his new daughter.”

Realization of their connection struck Roman through the core, and she smiled sinisterly. “That’s right, brother of mine. I thought I always wanted a sibling, but when I found out that I had one who had been given the world by Janus and threw it away, I was infuriated with him.”

“It sounds like you’re mad at dad, and I killed him for the both of us. How are we not square?” Roman asked.

“We’re not _square_ ,” she hissed, “because I had to watch my mother die in poverty while some greedy little _shit_ inherited the world he didn’t deserve and watch his _greed_ grow into a criminal empire where he took more and more while some of us were left with _NOTHING!_ ”

“I see why you needed the psychiatrist,” Zsasz said with a chuckle.

“Like you’re one to talk,” she growled.

“So, you’ve made your speech, do we die now?” Roman asked.

Montoya chuckled as she slid a hand into her suit. There had been an odd bulge that Roman had assumed to be a weapon. “I’m not gonna kill ya, Roman. I’m gonna torture you and make you suffer like I have suffered. And _then_ I’m gonna kill ya.”

She removed the object from her suit and Roman’s entertained expression from their back and forth quickly melted into an ice-cold fear upon seeing the object she had managed to get her hands on. “ZSASZ!”

Zsasz quickly launched a projectile knife towards Montoya but it paused, hovering a few inches from her face as soon as she had slipped a glossy black skull-shaped mask on her face. It emitted an ominous shadowy aura around her head and she emitted a low, dark chuckle from underneath it.

“I have to hand it to Selina,” Montoya stated. “She was certainly the best thief in Gotham.” The knife fell to the ground as did Roman and Victor. They slid across the ground closer and closer to the detective. Roman squirmed and tried to grab anything, but his attempts were futile. They were raised up off the ground upside down and turned to face Montoya in the black skull mask.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” Roman growled.

“It belonged to my piece of shit father,” Montoya replied coldly. “And now it’s _mine._ ”

She turned to head out of the club with Zsasz and Roman floating through the air behind her, Grayson positioning themselves behind them. He had no Dinah, no Helena, and none of his other men around to know what was happening to him and Victor. For the first time in Roman’s life, he felt powerless.  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Roman and Zsasz had been hostage in a cold, abandoned warehouse for over thirty six hours now, at least, that’s what Roman could assume. Dick Grayson had these electrical batons that he was fond of. He would place them to their chests or their skulls and let the electricity fly, and then he’d club them with it.

They would blackout from the pain or the impact of the baton itself, luckily it was a good way to pass time, being unconscious. Montoya gave them very little food and very little water. 

“This isn’t fun anymore,” Montoya griped as she was sitting in her armchair that she had placed across from them to watch them; her throne of this kingdom of pain. “Dick, why isn’t this fun anymore?”

“We’ve been doing this for like, two days straight. That’s almost a forty hour work week. We need to have a fun break,” he replied.

“Yeah, you’re right. I thought this was going to be just fun forever; sort of like my relationship with Ellen, and she turned out to be a massive cunt,” Montoya replied. She got up off her chair and strolled over to where Roman and Zsasz were bound. “Roman, I’m glad you found yourself a fucking psychopath, because other fucking cunts claim that they’ll love and support you, until your mental health gets just a little too inconvenient for them!” She angrily kicked a metal trash can that happened to have been close to them, and Roman chuckled faintly, his body too weak to do anything more.

“I’m more than happy to kill her for you, or maybe Zsasz, in exchange for our release,” Roman replied.

Montoya laughed heartily at the meager offer. “You think I haven’t already made that bitch pay? And you think I’m ready to call it quits when it hasn’t even been an entire weekend? You really fucking underestimate me don’t you?”

Roman felt gravity pressurize around his neck, choking him. The black mask on Montoya’s face emitted a powerful hum as its powers were applied to Roman’s throat. “You’re not going to get out of this alive, brother dearest. I can keep this up for, at _least_ a year. Prisoners of war are kept for what, three or four? I put over two decades into this revenge into this shit! You want me to only utilize one day per fucking decade? Did Grayson knock too many screws loose in that fucking skull?”

“Two decades?” Zsasz asked weakly. “What did you do for the initial six you old cunt?”

Montoya chuckled at Zsasz’s attempt at defiance. “You think you’re really clever for that one? You hear that, Grayson? He called a middle-aged woman _old_ , we got ourselves a real freaking criminal genius mastermind over here. If Harley hadn’t already put the Joker into the ground, you could've given him a _real_ run for his money, you stand-up comedian you.”

She got closer to Zsasz and squatted so she was face-to-face with Victor. “I’ll tell you what, gruesome Gaylord; if you have a good insult for me by the time we come back, I’ll let you eat tonight. If you disappoint, I think I’ll break a kneecap. I wanted to save the kneecap breaking for another week, I didn’t want to waste the good torture too fast, but hey, you’ve earned it.”

She stood up and headed to the door. “Let’s head out of here, Dick.” Dick got up off of the wooden crate pile he had been resting on and elbowed Roman in the face as he walked past the criminal couple.

They heard their car drive off in the distance. This was the first time they had been left alone. Grayson had used metal bounds instead of easily frayed rope, there was no chance at escape.

“I appreciated your joke, Zsasz,” Roman said. The man had brought him great amounts of joy in just the few days they had known each other. Roman had come to the realization a few hours ago that Montoya’s grievance was with Roman. Zsasz was Grayson’s target, but it would be easy torture for Roman to make him watch Zsasz die. There was no guarantee they’d be in this together forever, and the thought of that hurt Roman more than Dick’s ridiculous batons.

“Thank you, boss,” Zsasz replied. “I’m glad I can make you smile. It’s a nice smile.”

“It’s not as beautiful as yours, Victor,” he replied. “I-I’m sorry you’re in this because of me.”

“No, I was rash. If I didn’t kill Bruce Wayne-”

“Montoya still would have came for me once Cobblepot sold her the mask,” Roman cut off. “This isn’t on you.”

“You’re sweet,” Zsasz replied. “Much sweeter than my last boyfriend. I wanted to give him the world and he was a self-absorbed narcissist .”

“Am I ‘boyfriend’ now?” Roman asked flirtily.

“Well, I killed a crime lord for you and am now being held hostage and being tortured for you, so I feel like you owe me a _little_ bit of a commitment.”

Roman laughed at Zsasz’s flirting. “I’d love to be your boyfriend, Victor, assuming we can make it out of this. But is this a bad time to mention I’m also a self-absorbed narcissist?” Roman asked.

Zsasz chuckled. “Well, maybe I have a type. But you took care of Dinah, Helena, and your boys. He preferred to run solo. I just kept him entertained for a while.”

“Sounds like one of mine,” Roman replied. “But you can keep me entertained for as long as you like, baby. If Montoya and Dickbag here can’t manage to get rid of me, you sure as hell can’t.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zsasz replied, turning his head to Roman to smile at him genuinely.

“Are we moving a little fast?” Roman asked with a chuckle.

“I like it fast,” Zsasz replied connotatively.

“I noticed,” Roman replied, acknowledging the innuendo.

They heard gunshots outside, Montoya’s men most likely, but Roman wondered who they were up against. Roman was all out of allies.

The door to the warehouse burst open and in walked a familiar face Roman was all too sure he had left in the past. The blonde haired Englishman sauntered in, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket and began to light it.

“Constantine?” Roman and Zsasz asked in unison before turning to the other questioningly at their mutual recognizing of the man.

“In the flesh, chaps. It’s nice to see the both of you again, and in bondage no less! Brings back fun memories,” he said with a wink. He headed over to Victor and squatted down, giving Zsasz a deep kiss on his mouth with a chuckle. “Zsaszy, nice to see you. I see you’ve added some new scars. You’ve stayed busy.”

Constantine stood up and made his way to Roman next and flashed his usual mischievous, charming smile. “Romy, darling. Glad to see your crime empire took off.” He leaned down and kissed Roman on the lips as well before pulling back and turning to Zsasz. “Are you still the jealous type that gets infuriated with stuff like that?”

Zsasz flashed a condescending smile. “I killed one of his exes just for fun.”

John let out a fake surprised noise and chuckled. “That’s why I kissed you first, to be fair. Also, I’m saving the both of you lot, so how about ya let these slide for old time’s sake?” He turned back to Roman and smiled. “That means you too, Romy.”

“You dated Constantine?” The both of them asked each other in unison.

He winked at the both of them before taking a few steps back. He raised his hands and began to spin them above one another as he mumbled his incantation jargon. Their metal bounds erased into dust and they were able to stand up. 

“You’re both very welcome. The both of you can properly thank me later, at the same time if you catch my drift,” he said with another wink. Roman was recalling just how physically amorous John was, but he lacked in any type of emotional connection. “But first, I am assuming we want to take down those wankers who did this to you.”

“How did you even know what had happened to us so quickly? I haven’t seen you in years, and I would have heard if you were in Gotham,” Roman said.

“Truth be told loves, Zsaszy’s little murder scheme caught my eye and I thought I could pop into Gotham, have a romp with each of ya and be on my merry way. Imagine my surprise when I come to town and see your little club a bloody fucking nightmare, _and_ hear the news from your men that you two were an _item_! What are the odds?” Constantine asked himself, positively chuckled, and took a drag from his cigarette.

“Your _libido_ saved our lives?” Roman asked. “Glad it was finally useful for something.”

“Aww, don’t act like we didn’t have fun, Romy,” Constantine said before quickly turning to Zsasz and putting his hand to cover the side of his mouth to “prevent” Roman from hearing. “Not as much fun as you, Zsaszy, you wild insane psychopathic sexual animal you.”

“Constantine,” Roman said authoritatively, getting his attention. “If you are done-“

“Oh! But I am not!” John interrupted. “I knew my very presence would ruffle some feathers, so I brought you a little peace offering as well as insurance that neither of you will kill me for calling it quits. OH LADIES!”

Roman looked to the door and almost had a conniption when he saw Helena and Dinah walking into the warehouse, alive and well again.

“If you’ll recall, I _am_ a master of the dark arts with quite a skill set in necromancy. I know you were never really got at making friends, Romy, and I figured you’d want yours back.”

“Dinah, Helena,” Roman stated, his eyes watering. “Is it really you?”

“You both look like shit,” Dinah commented.

Roman let out an excited cry with his gasp as he brought his shaking hand up to his mouth. “It _is_ you!” He gave her a large, tight hug, even though his ribs weren’t made for it. He winced in pain as he let go. 

“That’s right, you both have likely had quite the pounding romp around. Let’s get you both patched up, eh?” He asked. He mumbled some more incantations and suddenly, Roman felt like a new man. All of his aches and pains washed away and he felt charged and ready to roar.

“I think the five of us can take on Miss Montoya and her little side-Dick,” Roman growled. “Especially when Constantine’s magic can go face to face with the mask’s.” 

“Just as long as I’m paid well and compensated as requested, ol’ lovers of mine,” Constantine said suggestively. “I’m a Good man to have on a good side.”

“Let’s just get up and go,” Roman said. “Do we have any idea where they go?”

“The Blue Bird,” Dinah replied.

“Excellent,” Roman said. “Let’s pick up some guns, and then let’s remodel their little club.”

It took them about an hour to make sure they were stocked and reloaded. They would _not_ be running out of ammunition again. As they were reloading Zsasz made his way to Roman. 

“Hey, boss,” Zsasz said softly, affection clear in his voice.

“Hey, Zsasz,” Roman replied, reciprocating the same love in his voice.

“I didn’t get a chance to do this after we got freed.” He leaned forward and kissed Roman deeply. He wrapped his arms around Roman white their lips moved and overlapped as their tongues gently grazed the other. The kiss broke but Zsasz pressed his forehead against Roman’s and continued to hold him. “I would follow you anywhere, to the ends of the Earth, or worse, _Metropolis_.” Roman chuckled as Zsasz stroked his cheek. “I will make them suffer for making you suffer.”

“You are the best homicidal, psychopath is stalker a man could have asked for, Victor,” Roman replied tenderly. Zsasz smiled softly at the reassurance as he looked deeply into Roman’s eyes. “Also, it was really nice not having _Constantine_ be our most recent kiss.”

“Yeah, want me to kill him?” Zsasz asked.

“You can’t lads,” Constantine interjected. “My magic is keeping Dinah and Helena alive. Once I’m dead, they return to their original dead state. And if they die by other means in this undead state, they die permanently. I can’t resurrect them a repeat time. So, are we aware of the stakes at hand, mates?”

“Yes we do,” Roman said as he cocked his gun. “Let’s roll out.”

Montoya and Grayson were sitting in the VIP Booth at The Blue Eagle. They were laughing and drinking prohibited alcohol and listened to the music and watched the subjects dance.

“We can run this town, Grayson. We own the city, we own the police. We can get rid of every lousy, slimy villain and rich asshole in this city that are keeping the rest of Gotham under their heels,” she stated.

The doors to the club burst open and in rushed Sionis’s men, laying waste to the people in the club. Montoya quickly fumbled to put the mask on and as soon as she did, she hovered through the air and descended down to main floor. All of Sionis’s men were frozen in their steps.

“Roman’s thugs?” she asked. “Your boss ain’t here. He’s a little tied up right now.”

The smug expression Montoya had, hidden beneath the thick black mask, quickly faded away as Roman, Zsasz, Constantine, Helena, and Dinah strolled in. “Nice party, sis. Don’t tell me you let your guard down and didn’t have back-up at a club?”

Montoya said nothing and tried to channel the magic from the mask to Roman. Zsasz made a disapproving _tsk tsk_ noise with his tongue. “That’s not going to work this time, sweetheart. Johnny English gave us these things called ‘wards’. Magic don’t work on us.”

“Well, you should have brought enough to cover your entire team,” she said. Roman’s men marched forward towards Renee and rotated, turning their bodies to them. Grayson jumped from a balcony above, landing gracefully on the ground with one first to the floor, his electric batons, which have formed into one long staff, in the other. He stood up and glared at the five of them and posed with his staff, ready to strike.

“Let the show commence!” she exclaimed.

Dinah roared as Roman’s men opened fire, their rain of bullets being repelled back the force as the rest of them fired as well. Some of the men took cover, and some were hit on the spot. 

Montoya flew up high while Grayson took cover. John began to mumble and two ghastly familiars that looked like skeletons on fire, dressed in old nordic armor with heavy swords appeared. The phantasms dashed towards the crowds and used their ethereal sabres to cut and slice through Roman’s corrupted men.

Helena made her way over to where Grayson was hiding and lured him out. He took multiple swings at her with his staff roaring with charged electricity, but she deflected and blocked as much as she could, cursing loudly as her hand received a shock. She began to deflect with her crossbow, using it like a sword. It was uneven, but it made do in defending herself, but the angle was never good enough to take a shot.

Roman and Zsasz dashed their way upstairs to catch back up to Montoya. When they got to the top floor they had seen multiple chairs and tables swirling around the air.

“Oh, shit,” Roman mumbled.

As they were launched towards the two of them, they appeared to pauses again and sway back and forth slightly between Roman and Montoya. Constantine appeared from the other side, hands glowing and mumbling under his breath. 

Roman and Zsasz smirked as they took their guns out and pointed them towards Montoya. “He’s awfully considerate for an ex-boyfriend,” Roman said with a smirk. Montoya’s expression was hidden under the absk, but Roman would have bet that she wasn’t too happy. As Roman and Zsasz began to fire, the furniture was thrown downwards as a shield. Woodchips and dust spread through the air as their onslaught tore through the chairs and tables. Constantine gave a magical push and all of the scraps and remainder of the furniture flew forward to push into Montoya. The large wooden slivers and stakes pierced through her skin, and the furniture that was whole enough knocked her through the railing, causing her to fall the multiple floors onto the ground. 

Grayson turned around in surprise and that’s when Helena fired the crosshow into the back of his skull, causing him to collapse. Roman made his way down the stairs and stood over Montoya’s bleeding body. He removed the family heirloom off of her face and looked at her. She was wheezing and looked at Roman with a neutral expression. Perhaps she was too weak to scowl at him.

“You shouldn’t have blamed me for your problems, Montoya. You could have worked _with_ me, not against me. And now you get to be another example of what happens when you fuck with Roman Sionis,” he said. 

He pressed his foot along her rib cage and applied pressure slowly, making it hurt. She winced in pain and choked until blood came out of her mouth, her head dropped, and there was no more resistance from his sister. He removed his foot and looked down at her. He had no remorse, but he was empathetic at the fact that the cruelty of his father’s actions had twisted another soul into darkness. His father’s evil blood ran his veins, as it did Montoya’s, and he wondered if his reign was in spite of Janus, or because it was hereditary to rule with an iron fist.

“Let’s go home,” Sionis ordered as he turned away from Montoya’s lifeless body and made his way to the exit.


	8. Epilogue

It had been two days since the massacre at The Blue Eagle, and goons were lining up to work for Roman, in fear that they’d never dare to be on a side that would ever oppose him. He needed to replace many that died, so it was beneficial.

He kept the club guarded 24/7 now. He would not be making that mistake ever again, not that there were any criminals left stupid enough to attempt to try anything.

Roman enjoyed waking up to Zsasz every morning. His bed was significantly more comfortable than being tied to a chair in a warehouse. Zsasz roamed his hand over Roman’s chest, through his chest hair, and smiled appreciatively at the man. 

“Do you think we’ve had enough hardship this past week? I will always stick with you through thick and thin, but I’m really hoping for some thin for a while,” Zsasz stated.

“Is thin the good option?” Roman asked. “Usually the good option is first and the bad option is later.”

“Regardless,” Zsasz replied. “I just want some time to appreciate the greatest crime lord in Gotham.”

Roman hummed as he smiled from Zsasz’s words. He loved the way Zsasz looked at him. He was melting under the caress of his new boyfriend. It had been such a short time, but there was nobody else Roman would want at his side as they took over Gotham together.

“I’m so grateful you came into my life,” Roman replied. “Just the two of us here in this bed, it’s all I need.”

Roman leaned forward to kiss Zsasz, and shortly after their lips were entwined, the door opened abruptly and John Constantine sauntered in.

“Oh good, you two are already getting warmed up. Don’t stop on my account. It’s time for final payment. And let’s put some more enthusiasm into it this time. Last time I really felt the impression you were only in it cuz you owed me and that didn’t make me feel very special. Feed my ego, boys.”

“Haven’t we done it enough?” Roman asked. “For someone that dumped the both of us, you are _very_ invested in returning to us.”

Constantine smiled fiendishly. “What can I say? You were both phenomenal shags. I reckon once for resurrecting Dinah, once for Helena, once for saving you, once for saving you, and once for the assistance at Blue Eagle. So-” he rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Let’s go and then I’m out.”

Once they were done _paying_ Constantine for the last time, everyone headed into the lobby of The Black Mask for goodbyes. 

“Dinah, Helena, it was lovely working with the both of you. Do keep Romy and Zsaszy out of trouble will ya?” Constantine asked. “Well like, more than the usual criminal amount.”

“I don’t get paid to do that,” Dinah replied.

“Fair enough,” he replied as he walked over to Zsasz. “Zsaszy, do keep up the work with the good murdering. If you stumble across the following body parts, do give me a ring. These are very hard to come by.” He fished through his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Victor, who eyes it curiously.

“This says _what_ of a knight?” Victor asked in disbelief.

“You read that right, chap,” Constantine replied. “Do take care.” He grasped Victor’s face and pulled him in for a final kiss, much to Victor’s and Roman’s annoyance. He walked over to Roman smugly.

“If you kiss me again, I’ll kill you,” Roman threatened.

“Then Dinah and Helena drop like a hooker’s knickers,” Constantine replied as he brought Roman in for a kiss as well. “I needed those for the road, loves. You can never travel before a proper goodbye from the dames you’ve seduced in the city. I do want to genuinely say, Roman, I am proud that you finally accomplished the criminal empire you always dreamed of. I’d like to think I had something to do with it-”

“You didn’t,” Roman interrupted.

“But I’d _like_ to think I did, and I _know_ that your future success is on me,” he said with a wink. “If the two of you ever want English Breakfast together again, just give me a ring,” he said smugly as he walked backwards towards the entrance of the club before turning around and grabbing the door.

As soon as the door opened slightly, a rush of icy wind blew the doors open completely and engulfed John Constantine in thick, frozen mist.

“John!?” Roman exclaimed in shock. As soon as the mist faded slightly, they saw John had become a frozen statue. They couldn’t see the people on the other side, but they say a large metal staff swing through and shatter a frozen John into hundreds of pieces. 

Dinah and Helena collapsed onto the ground, their corpses’s attachment to John’s magic now gone, and in walked two younger boys. One looked like a splitting image of a younger Clark Kent, and the other had a dumb red mask and strange armored gear.

The henchmen in the club turned their guns to the duo, but the doppleganger for Clark Kent fired red beams of fire from his eyes and hit every gun, melting the metal into the hands of the men who roared screams as the molten metal burnt and solidified into their flesh.

“Do you know who we are, Mr. Sionis?” the masked staffman asked.

“Clark Kent Jr. and some awkward vigilante?” Roman asked.

“I am the son of Clark Kent,” the muscular tall one replied.

“And I am the son of Bruce Wayne and brother of Dick Grayson,” the shorter one added.

Roman grunted in annoyance. “How many secret orphan children did Bruce have that I didn’t know about!? You think you know a guy!”

“Your reign of terror ends now,” Clark’s son stated.

Roman chuckled menacingly as he slipped his hand into his suit jacket. “Oh, on the contrary-”. He removed the black mask and set it on his face. It glowed with its powerful and ominous dark aura. “My reign of terror has only just begun.”

**The End**


End file.
